


Perimeter Guard

by terri_testing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terri_testing/pseuds/terri_testing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus learns to patrol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perimeter Guard

**Author's Note:**

> I started off trying to write a story about how a man central to a conflict came to find himself always on the edges, patrolling alone in the dark, unknown. I conceived the story originally as having three parts, perhaps written as a braid with three strands, of the three spaces his younger self had inhabited while making the twined choices that brought him there: the house lost to him of love and belonging, the house of anger, and the house of ambition. 
> 
> The second two parts never came to me, but here are their epigraphs.
> 
> II. The House of Anger 
> 
> “Perhaps all unsheltered people are angry in their hearts, and would like to break the roof, spine, and ribs, and smash the windows and flood the floor and spindle the curtains and bloat the couch.” Marilyn Robinson, Housekeeping 
> 
> “There is nothing but anger in the house of anger.’” Ursula LeGuin, Always Coming Home 
> 
> III. The House of Ambition 
> 
> “Those cunning folk would use any means to achieve their end.”
> 
>  
> 
> That's from the parts I didn't write. Here is the part I did: the house lost to him.

_“Perimeter, n. 1. The outer boundary of a figure…. 2. The total length of this.   3. An optical instrument for testing the scope of vision….” Webster’s New 20th Century Dictionary, Unabridged_

 

_“However Lucille may look, she will never find us there, or any trace or sign.   We pause nowhere in Boston, … and the perimeters of our wandering are nowhere. No one watching this woman … could know how her thoughts are thronged by our absence, or know how she does not watch, does not listen, does not wait, does not hope, and always for me and Sylvie.”   Marilyn Robinson, Housekeeping_

 

_“A circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.” A Medieval definition of God. Variously attributed._

_  
_

I. Turned out of house

“ _Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house. Those outside can watch you if they want, but you need not see them. You simply say, ‘Here are the perimeters of our attention….’_

_I had been, so to speak, turned out of house…._

_When one looks from the darkness into the light, however, one sees all the difference between here and there, this and that.”_ _Marilyn Robinson, Housekeeping_

*

June 1976

_Sev? I didn’t mean it._

_Sev? I know you didn’t mean it—I was just mad at you._

_Sev? You toerag, how could you say that?! I know you never meant it, but still!_

_Sev?_

 

But however long he waited in the Room of Needful Things, she never came.

On the fourth night he finally fell asleep at their study table. He was taunted in the morning by his housemates.

 

"Slept outside the Gryffindor tower again, Snape, waiting to lick the Mudblood's shoes?"

“No, he’d rather lick her arse.”

“No, he’d rather lick her muddy pussy. But she won’t let him.”

 

"Go to Hell," Severus snarled, but his heart wasn't in it. His heart wasn't much in anything; he ended up only earning E's on his last two OWLs.

 

*

July 1976

Snape really needed a summer job, and he’d sort of been offered one, but… during the summer holidays, they had always gone to the library on Wednesdays after lunch. He was there Wednesday when the library opened; she wasn't, of course. He checked out some books that he hadn't finished at the Christmas hols and bagged a chair facing the entrance, his head bent determinedly over the Norton. He didn't think he had the concentration right now for the maths one.  

Mid-afternoon, old Miss Platting touched his shoulder. "Please join me for tea, Severus,” she said in a tone of instruction rather than invitation. He hunched his shoulders and bent further over his book, silently shaking his head. Miss Platting said, very quietly, "If she shows up, Dirk has instructions to tell me. Come, Severus."

He shook his head again, lank hair swinging over his face. She sighed. "Childishness doesn't really suit you, Severus. Come." He flushed a little, closed the book, and followed her.

She entertained him with light gossip about the library personnel through two cups of tea and three sandwiches. He didn't pretend to be interested, but he did answer with an occasional grunt. When she saw that his eating had slowed and his hands' shaking eased, she let her flow of persiflage stop. The two sat in silence for a few minutes; finally the old woman asked, "So what’s the fight about?"

He shook his head, his hair once more hiding his expression. After a bit he mumbled into the silence, "I called her—something I shouldn't have. Something I—I _really_ should not have."

Miss Platting waited.

"Some ba—some other boys at school were h—were beating up on me. It was partly to show off to her; the ringleader fancies her. And she sailed on in, of course, like Lady Bountiful, like she would, and he said I was lucky she was there to stop him. And I said I didn't need help from filthy little—” The head dipped again.

"Mm. Understandable, but stupid of you. And you were too stupid or too proud to apologize?"

"I did apologize. That night. I camped outside the Fa—her dorm entrance—until she came out. But she said—to save my breath." His oddly-stained fingers were pulverizing a biscuit.

"Severus.   If you apologized, I’m sure she'll come around. Give her time to cool off; you know she has a bit of that red-headed temper. You've been best friends for, what, six years? She wouldn't throw that away over one mistake."

He pulverized another biscuit, not looking up. Miss Platting added, "Unless there's more to it you’re not saying."

"She said, it meant—I'd chosen my path."

Miss Platting frowned a little. "Your path?”

She waited for him to elaborate; he didn’t.

“And did it mean that?"

"No," the boy whispered, his face white. "Not yet."

"Well, then. Show her that, and she'll come around."

She waited, but he didn't reply. She sighed and said briskly, “On the matter we discussed at Christmas, we could still use that extra shelver for the summer. The budget only stretches to 24 hours a week, but it would give you first crack at the new acquisitions. Have you considered it?"

His face stilled. "If she—if she won't talk to me. If she won't—see me. Then I couldn't work here."

"I'm not following your reasoning, Severus."

He looked away. "It wouldn't be fair to make her stay away."

"Working three days a week would give her three to visit, if that were the only problem. What else, Severus?"

He whispered, "I'd think about her. Here. It would remind me."

The old woman said tartly, "I need someone to start by the end of next week at the latest. Severus, you do realize you can't make your decisions based just on the one friendship. There are other things of importance."

His teacup rattled in its saucer. "Excuse me, please, Miss Platting." His face was dead.

 

*

Lily didn't come to the library on Thursday or on Friday. Severus stayed from opening to closing, though he was shaky with hunger by the time he left. He refused to look up when Miss Platting invited him for tea again. She sighed and let him be.

She could not give permission for the boy to eat in the library proper; he might get crumbs or grease on the books.

Well, no, he wouldn’t. But the permission would be precedent, and someone else would.

 

*

Late Saturday morning, Severus was wading through the footnotes to "Dover Beach." The books on Victorian social history and religious debates hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped.

Hair the color of dark fire caught a beam of sunlight in the entry. Severus looked up and froze.

Green eyes met black. Then the two Evans girls, flame and dun, walked past as loftily as though someone like a Snape had never existed for either save as a vague stink in their nostrils.

Severus closed the books he had been using and placed them tidily in the book return. That evening just before the library closed the ones Severus had checked out were left with an envelope containing a model of the epistletory art.

"Dear Miss Platting: The position you were so kind as to offer me does not fit my current needs. Thank you for considering me. Sincerely, S. Snape"

He never set foot in the library again, any more than he ever again took an almost-invisible path to a little glade overlooking the river.

 

*

Mrs. Evans said one night, as she and her younger daughter washed up, “Your friend Severus hasn’t come by at all this summer, Lily.”

Lily’s answer was fierce. “And he won’t. He’s not my friend, Mum, not really. He’s made that clear. There are groups in the Wizarding World that—that consider regular humans beneath them. He’s joined them.”

Mrs. Evans made a sound. Lily said, “Well, you know how he’s always hated his da. I guess he just decided we’re all worth about the same, all the Muggles and the Mudbloods!”

“Muggles and Mudbloods?”

Lily’s face burned. “Um, Muggle is what the Wizarding World calls, um, regular people. People without magic. And Mudblood is a—nasty word—for a Muggle-born witch or wizard. It’s a swear word, really; the polite way to say it is Muggle-born. And Severus called me that!”

Mrs. Evans said slowly, “I didn’t realize wizards—made those kinds of distinctions.”

“Well, for most people it doesn’t matter, or not much. I’ve never had problems making friends or been graded down or anything. But there’s a group to whom it does, and most of them are Slytherins, and they think—anybody but a Pureblood is beneath them. That’s partly what made me so mad when he—they—told me that Severus was getting in thick with that group—I mean, what a hypocrite! He’s a Half -blood!”

“Half-bloods, Muggles, Purebloods, … Muggle-borns? That’s … considered polite and normal talk in the Wizarding World?” Mrs. Evans’ eyes were troubled. “But I don’t remember Severus ever calling me or your father a Muggle.”

“He’s called Tuney that, though. When he wasn’t calling her a cow.” A giggle slipped past Lily’s scowl.

“Well, Tuney’s always been so jealous of your friendship that she’s treated him abominably. And of course she was prejudiced by his, er, background, which he can’t help. He certainly seems to have tried to raise himself above it.” Mrs. Evans sighed. “So he calls your sister a Muggle but he doesn’t call me or your father that? That says something.”  

But what it said, her daughter never heard.

 

*

The last Sunday in July, Miss Platting finally tried the boy's listed address. The sullen, slatternly-looking woman said, "Severus? He's at work now, isn't he? Yes, I'll tell him you came by." A man's voice erupted behind her in a slurred shout, and the woman shut the door rather suddenly in Miss Platting's face.  Miss Platting wasn’t entirely sorry, given the menace in that shout.

 

*

September 1976

Severus was careful to be the first one there for Advanced Potions to stake out his space. Not at the table he had used through five classes, nor at any too near there. A new perspective was always said to be valuable. He didn't look up as other students started filtering in; he was extremely busy organizing his workspace, placing his cauldron and tools. He had always been meticulous about that; nothing different there. When Avery joined him as they'd arranged, a rustle of conversation and speculation moved through the room. Severus kept his face frozen and his hands moving deftly.

Thanks to his public vigil in front of the Fat Lady, as many people knew that he and Lily had once been more than just Potions partners (at least on his side) as knew the condition of his underwear. In other words, all the returning students, and any of the staff who cared to pay attention. Everyone.

Slughorn's bulk sailed majestically through the door. He slewed around to check the room, the round face wearing the hint of a pout, and then he shut the door definitively.

Severus closed his eyes. _I thought so.”_

There was a moment's silence, a sudden noise from the Gryffindor tables, and then MacDonald's voice rose shrilly, "But where's Lily? She _has_ to be taking this class! She's the best there is in this subject!"

Sluggy's voice rumbled, "See if you can get her to see reason, Mary. She says she's not continuing, and she won't say why or listen to a word Professor McGonagall or I say. I'm willing to let her into class late if you can get her to change her mind. She’ll be sure to catch up."

Severus opened his eyes, to all appearances gazing fixedly at the silver knife whose position he was minutely adjusting. But through the curtain of his hair he could see Professor Slughorn looking at him.

Good thing Severus had never especially cared for Sluggy's little gatherings.

 

*

But the Houses were consolidated in all the NEWTs-level courses. It wasn’t so easy to escape her entirely, or for her to escape him.

He’d tried not to think of that consideration when Sluggy and he went over his prospective schedule. He’d tried hard. Not to think of that.

(“Lily,” he had asked eagerly, “what are you planning to take when we pass our OWLs…?”)

She’d considered Runes and Arithmancy dry; good chance then that she wouldn’t continue in them. Her quick feelings made her a natural in Care of Magical Creatures; well, Severus had neither aptitude nor need to continue in that one. Creatures were so dense, so themselves, that only the grossest changes in care or in gathering made a discernable difference in potions. Unlike plants; an aspiring Potions Master had to master Herbology. And, unfortunately, she had liked that class; she would probably want to continue taking it.

Charms and Transfigurations—of course she could and would continue. How not? Charms was her best subject. He’d be sure to see her there. If he took it.

A masters in Potions required knowledge of Transfigured ingredients, of Herbology, of Astronomy, of Arithmancy, of Defense if one were to have a hope of brewing Dark potions or remedies…. Runes, History, and Charms were all considered strongly useful, but they weren’t strictly required. If he swept NEWTS in History and Runes, he’d be ahead for his Potions mastery, with the rest.   Without taking Charms, her specialty.

Without ever taking Charms again.

 

*

Winter 1976

Only three NEWTS courses was considered light; of course the Marauders would do four, just for the looks of things. But—Muggle Studies? Lily looked at Potter approvingly when he explained (loudly, in the Great Hall) how _he_ wasn’t prejudiced, he wanted to understand the non-magical world. And Potter and the rest took Care of Magical Creatures and Charms with her. Leaving Transfiguration the only course in which Severus had to watch Lily and the Marauders together.

And he watched them transfigure over the course of the year.

Pettigrew turned leaden, lumpen, as the blaze of Potter’s attention turned increasingly exclusively to Lily.

Lupin seemed to turn to vapor. He, his condition, had been the binding element of their earlier grouping, but now he was peripheral.

Black became quicksilver, even more flashy and poisonous than before.

Potter… still thought he was gold. And Lily seemed to be coming to agree.

 

*

Summer 1977

After a month of waiting in vain for the boy, Miss Platting started to watch for the girl. But the younger Evans hardly came either. Miss Platting made a passing remark to the older sister, who sneered, "Oh, Lily's too wrapped up with that school of hers to pay attention to proper culture. She'll end up an ignorant good-for-nothing, the road she's going."

Finally in August the girl came by and Miss Platting pounced. "Does Severus still go to that special drama and arts school of yours?"

The girl nodded reluctantly.

"Well, I will say it did wonders for both of your diction. But he hasn't been in here since last year, and I've been worried about him."

Lily said harshly, "You should be. Or rather, you should be worried about the rest of us. I'm sure _he'll_ do just fine. Excuse me, Miss Platting." She left without checking out any books.

 

*

September 1977

She was still taking Transfiguration and Herbology; he couldn’t be surprised. And he really had to continue in both. He stopped speaking in either class except to answer teachers’ direct questions. He wanted to stop hearing anything except the teachers, too, but no matter how hard he tried, he was always aware when her voice rang out, her sudden laugh. Eventually he invented another spell. He would dip his head to drop his hair over his face and incant it nonverbally. It worked almost like a reverse Muffliato, except that no one was inside it with him.

 

*

Winter 1977

A certain high corridor had windows all along the west side. Even in winter, it basked in more light than the rest of the castle. Lily loved the light; she took that corridor when she returned from Advanced Charms to lunch in the Great Hall, on Tuesdays and on Thursdays. Two weeks caught at random had been enough to fix the schedule in Severus’s head.

So if he walked that corridor at that time he might see a single flash of red hair among the crowding students. If he walked another way, the darkness would be unrelieved. Or it would be if he timed it right; if he miscalculated, he might still find himself behind her on the stairs.   He should skip lunch those days, if he really wanted to play it safe. The Great Hall itself was fine, as long as he sat with his back to the door.

Other people walked that corridor to see the sun. They avoided it to escape the sun-seeking crowds. A friend would drag them one way or another, or a random errand would. They had a hangover and their eyes hurt in the light even of a northern winter. They needed to talk with someone on third floor first.   They needed to run pick up the notes for their next class.

Severus knew perfectly well that most people had multiple reasons, mostly unimportant and ephemeral, to choose one route over another.

He envied them.

To see her, to avoid her, were the only choices he could make.

 

*

Summer 1978

In all, it was a relief to leave Hogwarts. To begin the rest of his life, whatever that might bring. At least it wouldn’t bring the constant danger of a flash of red hair, now usually mingling with black as they whispered or laughed together. She was everywhere here.

*

1979

“Just come check it out. I think that there’s much that you’d find interesting, Severus.”

Why not? She—everyone—expected him to. Everyone respected power and influence, which he might win in that circle. The invitation showed that they at least valued his talents, unlike—some people. And, after all, if it ever came to open conflict, someone high on the winning side would be better positioned to offer protection. Defying them like Dumbledore’s little cadre did just painted a target on one’s back.

 

Later, pledges. Promises. Commitments, of various sorts.

Why not? They at least valued him.

*

Winter 1980

She was in danger. And it was his fault.

Dumbledore would hide her.

He would guard her back.

“ _Anything,_ ” he whispered.

The old man took him at his word, and demanded everything.

*

November 1, 1981

It had happened.

*

Winter 1981

She was everywhere here. She was nowhere. She’d be nowhere ever again.

Severus stormed through the night-dark corridors.

He kept stumbling across students, miscreants; victims, vandals, dangers.

Lovers.

Ghosts.

She wasn’t anywhere here.

He had known she wouldn’t be.

*

He patrolled the perimeters.

Not looking for her. Never looking for her.  Unceasingly. 

Successfully.

He never found her.

 

*

 

End note: In French, to say “I miss you”, one says, _Tu me manques,_

“You are missing to me.”

 


End file.
